


Sam - 16

by phantisma



Series: Ages [11]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-09
Updated: 2006-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-13 09:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantisma/pseuds/phantisma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU - Sam's POV.  When Sam is 16, he is getting ready to leave for Stanford, and dealing with the emotional fall out of the actions that have led the Winchester brothers into bed together, while managing to slowly drive them apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam - 16

He was sixteen when he made the choice, the decision to leave. It wasn’t easy, in fact he changed his mind a half dozen times. A part of him knew that he was just running, from his guilt, from his fears. Another part of him argued that things were finally turning around, that he’d earned this.

He rolled over in his bed to watch Dean sleeping. His brother had seemed happier in these last few weeks than Sam could remember. Sam didn’t want to think about the reasons, that led to guilt and that opened the door to so much more.

Dean’s back was facing him, all muscle and bone and golden brown in the vague light from the full moon out the window. Sam felt the first familiar stirrings of arousal and shook his head. This had to stop. It had been two months since the first time, since he’d let Dean…no, that wasn’t really how it happened, not if he was honest with himself.

Sam had been responsible. Sam had been the one to say it, knowing that Dean wouldn’t deny him anything. On some level he’d always known that. It had been part of what had kept him from talking to Dean about his sick obsession in the first place.

It had started when he was thirteen. He’d seen Dean masturbating. He’d found himself hard watching his brother touch himself. It had grown from there. He dreamed about Dean, about Dean and the things Tony did to him. He thought about pushing his brother over the desk, against the wall…about hurting him in the way he seemed to need…and it wasn’t helped by the fact that he knew that need, and the problems that fed it were largely his fault. Sam knew things Dean didn’t even suspect.

Sam sighed and rolled away, facing the wall. Dean would never forgive him if he knew the truth, and Sam could never let him know. In one week, it would be over. Sam would go to Stanford and put this insanity behind him. Dean would move in with Kaitlyn, and Sam wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore. Wouldn’t have to worry about anything but school and the future he wanted for himself.

And wasn’t that just selfish? Sam sighed again and flopped over onto his back. “Fuck.” He threw an arm over his eyes and tried to force himself to stop thinking. That was the whole problem. Everything was because he’d been selfish…he wanted normal and family and he’d manipulated his brother to get it.

“Sam?”

“Yeah, Dean?”

“You okay?”

Sam sighed and glanced at his brother. “Yeah…can’t sleep.”

Dean sat up and Sam could feel his eyes on his skin. “Worried?”

“I guess. It’s only a week away.”

Dean moved, sliding to his knees beside Sam’s bed. “You’re going to be fine, Sam.”

Sam smiled, though it had more to do with how well he knew his brother and what he could get from him, than from any real happiness. “Yeah, I know Dean.”

Dean’s hand was on Sam’s thigh, softly rubbing over muscle. “I could help you sleep…if you want…” Dean looked up at him, his face open and expectant. It was always like this…Dean made the first move, made the suggestion and waited, let Sam be the one to back away…or be seduced…so it was never Sam’s fault.

Sam’s hand caressed Dean’s face and he nodded slowly. Dean came to him then, lips soft, reverent while his hands sought out Sam’s half-erect cock and played gentle fingers along its length. As he kissed his way down Sam’s chest, Sam settled back against the pillow.

He should stop it now, before…Sam shuddered as Dean’s tongue found its way up the underside of his cock. This was more messed up than Dean’s thing with Tony…but Sam got a small amount of pride in knowing that in these last two months Dean hadn’t seen Tony, except for a couple of runs…runs that Sam went on with them.

Dean’s tongue was hot against him, lapping easily against his balls. Sam hissed inward and moved his hips, pressing the head of his dick up toward Dean. He took the hint and swallowed him, working his lips up to the head and swirling his tongue over it. Sam’s cock swelled in Dean’s perfect mouth and he watched as Dean shifted his position for a better angle.

Dean was good at this, and Sam knew he owed that to Tony, as much as he despised the man. Dean hummed with Sam’s cock in his throat and Sam growled. “Fuck…yeah….like that Dean.” Dean let his cock slide out of his mouth, then sucked it back in, his fingers sliding down to caress Sam’s balls. Sam thrust upward and Dean just opened his throat, taking everything Sam gave, letting Sam set the rhythm as he got close. Sam grabbed his head and pulled him down as he came, shooting straight down Dean’s throat.

Dean pulled off slowly, licking Sam clean, then looking up expectantly. Sam smiled for him, his hand slipping from Dean’s hair to his face and drawing him up to kiss him. “Better?” Dean asked in a whisper and Sam nodded.

“Just, lay with me a while?”

Sam scooted over and Dean slid in beside him, curling on his side so that Sam could spoon up against him. “I love you Sammy.” Dean whispered into the pillow as he drifted off.

“Love you too Dean.” Sam responded, though the words lay cold in his stomach. He listened to Dean’s breathing even out and sighed. He knew that Dean had thought that if he did what Sam wanted, if he let him do the things they’d done, that he would stay. But Sam never planned on staying. It had taken time, but eventually Dean accepted that, just like he accepted everything else…anything for his brother. Sam closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. It was going to be a very long week.

 

“Hey, Dean, did you want these?” Sam held up a stack of comic books he’d found in the back of the closet.

Dean looked up from where he was sorting clothes into boxes. “Nah…those aren’t mine.”

Sam frowned and looked at them. “You sure?”

Dean crossed the room to look at them. “Dude, you bought those a few years ago.”

“I don’t remember.” Sam tossed them into the trash bag and went back into the closet. “When did we become such pack rats?” The closet was only half empty and most of what was coming out of it was so old neither of them recognized it.

“You’re the pack rat Gigantor.” Dean snorted in amusement with himself and Sam shook his head.

“Okay, but do **you** really need forty-five pairs of brown work boots?” Sam tossed a pair out of the closet into the pile that already contained at least six pair, all in various states of falling apart. “You do know that most people throw one pair away when they buy a new pair, right?”

“Oh, this coming from the guy with a hundred of the same gray hoodie?” Dean tossed one of them at Sam as he emerged from the closet again.

“They aren’t all the same. “ Sam said with a little mock hurt coloring his voice.

“Dude, whatever. How are you ever going to get all this stuff up to Stanford?”

Sam grinned, at least that was something he could answer. “I’m shipping it. If I send it the day I leave, it should get there about three days after I get there.”

“Shipping it where? You don’t have your dorm assignment yet.”

“No worries, big brother. I have the address of a friend’s father to send it to.”

Dean stood up and looked at him. Sam thought he looked suspicious. “Who’s this friend?”

“Remember Shelby Moss?” Dean nodded and Sam thought he saw a flare of jealousy in his green eyes. “Her father is a professor at Stanford, he’s agreed to receive them for me.”

“What am I going to do without you for four years, Sammy?” Dean asked suddenly, sinking down onto the bed.

Sam felt his heart skip a beat. How could he answer that? They’d had been everything to one another for so long. Sam wasn’t really sure how he was going to do it. He just knew that he had to. “Finish school, start your own restaurant with Kaitlyn…get married, have babies…you know, live your life.”

Dean shook his head. “Like it’s just that simple?”

“Why shouldn’t it be?” Sam asked, hauling another pile of comic books out of the closet. “Everyone else does it.”

Dean snorted and dropped the shirt he was folding into the box next to him. “We aren’t everyone else Sam. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’re not exactly your average, normal pair of brothers.”

Sam closed his eyes, grateful that the darkness of the closet hid him. They were nothing close to average, nowhere close to normal…no matter how hard they tried to pretend. “Hey Dean?”

Sam’s hand closed on the duffle bag, his heart beating even louder now. He pulled it out of the furthest corner of the closet.

“Is this…” He put it down on the floor and backed away from it. The bag was old, covered in dust. “Dean?”

Dean stood and took a step closer. “That looks like the duffle I found at the motel…after…when we first…”

Sam breathed out slowly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He pushed it with his toe. “What’s in it?”

Dean shrugged. “I don’t know. It was years ago.” Dean reached for the bag, then hesitated. "I thought this bag was long gone."

"This is silly Dean." Sam grabbed the bag and took it to the bed. "Just a fucking bag." Sam unzippered that the bag and reached inside. The first thing he came out with was a canister of salt and a beat up can of lighter fluid. He raised an eyebrow and tossed them on the bed before going back in for more. His hand faltered as it encountered the unfamiliar weight but unmistakable shape of a gun. It emerged from the bag wrapped in notebook paper.

The gun slipped out of the paper and onto the bed leaving Sam holding nothing but a note from a lifetime ago. He smoothed the paper out so he could read it.

_Dean and Sam,_

_I am sorry I wasn’t here. Something has happened. It isn’t safe to be with me right now. You’re safer there. I will come for you soon. As soon as it’s safe. Take care of one another. Protect yourselves._

_Love you, Dad_

Sam snorted and tossed the paper aside. “Was this his idea of keeping us safe?” Sam picked up the gun and looked at it.

“You remember how he was, don’t you?” Dean reached for the gun, checking to see if it was loaded before he shoved it back down to the duffel bag. "He gave me my first gun when I was nine remember?"

"I was _five_ , and Dean. How do you expect me to remember?" Sam stomped away, anger burning up inside him, though he wasn't quite sure what the cause of his anger was. "Why is it that every time things start going well, he shows up in some way? Either he's lurking outside of the school, or he sends a birthday card, and now this."

"What do you mean Sam?" Dean asked, leaving the duffel bag on the bed and following his brother across the room. "When was he lurking outside of the school?"

Sam sighed in frustration. He hadn’t told Dean about most of the times he'd seen their father, all the times he'd noticed him watching. He never really understood why he didn't tell him. It just became a part of the secret, part of the things he never told Dean.

"Sam?"

"Okay, just don't get angry it until you've heard me out."

"Why would I be angry Sam?" Dean crossed his arms and looked like he was already angry.

"I'm actually surprised that you’ve never seen him." Sam said, crossing his arms as well. "The day of my 11th birthday, when you had the nosebleed, I saw him then. The track meet, when you passed out, he was there. In fact, every single time Dean...every time you've had a blackout, he's been around." Sam crossed the desk the two of them shared and opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out the black leather bound journal their father had given Dean, all those years before and tossed it at his brother.

"What is this?" Dean asked, opening it.

“Just look. I made notes.” Sam said, disgusted with himself. “You made entries when you were blacked out. All but this last time. Within a week of each entry I saw Dad, or we heard from him…all the way back to the day he gave that to you.”

He watched Dean flip through the pages. “I wrote all of this?” Dean’s voice was strange and Sam looked up.

“Yeah.” Sam knew most of it by heart. He’d poured over it, scoured it for signs…for confirmation…he’d never gotten it. The truth was there, in those pages that he had kept hidden from his brother.

“This is…insane.” Dean said, his fingers sliding over the pages. “Demons and visions. I…this is dated only a few months ago.”

Sam nodded. “I know.”

“I don’t understand.”

Sam bit his lip. This wasn’t his brother…not his Dean. This was a drugged up version who couldn’t think past what his psychiatrist told him was true. This was his fault. All Sam’s fault.

“I know.” Sam said again. He sighed. “Its okay Dean.”

“No Sam. This isn’t okay. If you knew…God Sam.” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know what to do with this.” Dean put the journal down on the bed and backed away from it. “This is so far from okay.”

Sam took a deep breath. “Dean, look.” Sam crossed the room and took Dean’s arm. “No entries since the new meds, right?”

Dean shook his head. “You knew and didn’t say anything?” he asked softly.

Sam kissed him, tilting his head up. Dean didn’t resist, but didn’t make any moves to reciprocate either. “Dean. Forget it. Forget I said anything. We’ll lose the gun, we’ll lose the journal. It will be okay.” Sam’s heart was thundering, eight years of repressed guilt pounding through his veins. “Don’t hate me, Dean. I—I worried…its better now, right?” Sam’s kiss was more urgent now, driven by the need to make Dean forget, to make it better.

“I don’t hate you Sam.” Dean whispered, his eyes closed. “I could never…”

“Promise?”

Dean’s lips smiled against his. “Yeah Sammy, I promise.”

Sam slipped his arms around his brother and held him until Dean seemed to relax. “We should finish so we can move your shit tomorrow.” Sam said quietly and Dean nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll go get the last of the laundry.”

As Dean left the room, Sam exhaled slowly and ran a hand over his face and into his hair. Two days. Two days and he would be gone, away from Dean and the lies and the whole fucking mess.

 

“Tell me again why we’re here?” Sam asked as Dean held the door to the church for Kaitlyn.

Her dark hair lifted on the cool air wafting out from the building and she smiled. “Because my uncle is the new priest and my mother asked me to stop by and invite him to dinner.”

“Yes, but why are Dean and I here?” Sam asked with a grin and she swatted at him. “Hey, sacred ground…no hitting.”

“Just behave.”

“I’m a perfect angel.” Sam said and this time it was Dean who hit him.

“Better watch it. Lightening has been known to strike liars.”

“You boys want to wait here?” Kaitlyn asked as she paused at the arch to a corridor.

“I’ll come with you.” Dean said, swinging their joined hands. Sam rolled his eyes and pointed toward the sanctuary.

“I’ll wait in there. Maybe have a nap.”

He walked away, before they had even moved. He had to admit, he’d always been fascinated by churches, maybe because they had never spent any time in them. This one was a bit on the ornate side compared to some he’d seen. The stained glass windows stood almost two stories high, beautiful mosaics of color that cast multicolored puddles of light on the wood floors and across the rows of pews.

“Can I help you with something?”

Sam looked up, startled. “Ah,…no, um, Father. I’m just waiting on someone.”

“Aren’t we all?” The dark haired priest looked amused with himself. “I’m Father Andrews.”

“Sam Winchester.” Sam held out his hand and when the priest clasped it in his, Sam felt a rush of something.

“Are you okay, Sam?”

“Yeah…okay.” Sam’s eyes narrowed and he watched the priest’s gray eyes closely.

“You look like something’s startled you.”

Sam shook his head. “No…no…I just…I’m not comfortable in…churches exactly.”

Father Andrews crossed his arms. “No? Most people find them comforting…sacred ground, blessings, the whole nine yards.”

Sam chuckled. “Well, I’m not most people.”

“I can see that.” His tone put Sam on edge. Sam turned back to studying the window in front of him. “Can I at least offer you a bit of advice, Sam?” Sam glanced at him and the priest nodded. “Not everything is as it appears to be, and sometimes the very thing you think is most impossible is the only thing that’s actually real.”

Sam snorted and shook his head. “Is that supposed to mean something?

“You tell me.”

“You sound like my shrink.”

Sam paced away, moving to another window, slightly annoyed when the priest followed. “I don’t mean to pry, Sam, but you seem upset. If you want to talk, I’m here.”

"No offense, Father, that's what I pay my therapist for."

The priest nodded knowingly and smiled. "Psychiatry has its uses, Sam, but it can't explain everything. All I'm offering a different perspective."

"Sammy!" Dean appeared at the double doors to the sanctuary his arms spread wide, his face confused as he spotted Sam talking to the priest. "Come on Dude were out of here."

"Thanks for the offer Father. Maybe some other time."

"Anytime Sam. I'm always here."

 

Something about the man’s tone bothered him, his words rolling around in Sam’s head as he and Dean and Kaitlyn hauled the last of Kaitlyn’s things into the new apartment. He’d _seen_ something in the priest…not at all unlike what he’d _seen_ in George before, nor what he’d seen in others since then…not unlike the things Dean wrote about in the journal…yet still different somehow.

Kaitlyn disappeared into the bedroom and Dean pulled Sam into the kitchen. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been all weird since the church.”

Sam bit his lip and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

“What did that priest say to you?”

Sam shook his head and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Dean’s lips. “Nothing. We were talking about the windows.”

“Dude, that so wasn’t window talking I saw.”

Sam smiled. “Window talking? Seriously. He was telling me something about the meaning of the image on the window. I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Hey, you guys want pizza?” Kaitlyn asked from the living room and Sam moved instinctively away from Dean. There was a part of him that was jealous of his brother’s girlfriend…the part of him that wanted him to stay, the part of him that drove him to pull Dean deeper into this twisted thing between them.

The way Dean’s face lit up when she came into the room made Sam’s stomach twist. He pushed it away, because he really did want Dean to be happy. If Dean was happy, Sam wouldn’t feel as guilty, wouldn't feel it gnaw at his insides at night. If Dean was happy with Kaitlyn, Sam could leave for Stanford, leave behind his desire for his brother…his need to give Dean something to take the place of all that he should have given him over the years.

“Yeah, pizza sounds good.” Dean said. “Just none of that pineapple shit this time, okay?” He shot Sam a strange look, then left the kitchen. When Sam had pulled himself together and emerged from the kitchen, they were kissing. Dean’s entire body relaxed when he was in her arms. Jealousy or no, Sam had to admit, Kaitlyn was good for Dean.

Sam stayed long enough to snatch a couple pieces of pizza and be social. When Kaitlyn started yawning around 7, Sam got up off the floor. “I’m gonna go. You two need some rest, and I’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

“Still want us to take you to the airport?” Dean asked, pulling his arm out from behind Kaitlyn and getting up to walk Sam out.

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Janet would just make a scene.”

“Can’t have that. You want me to take you home?”

Sam shook his head. “No…I think I’d like the walk. Besides, I have to stop by Shelby’s and say goodbye.”

“Okay. We’ll swing by for you tomorrow around 11.”

Dean stepped into the hallway with him and pulled the door shut. Sam dragged him toward the stairs and pressed him into the wall. Dean stilled beneath him, his entire posture open and giving. It aroused him and angered him at the same time. “Gonna miss this.” Sam hissed before kissing him. His right hand slipped between Dean’s legs and cupped him through his jeans. “Gonna miss you.”

For the first time since they’d started doing…this…Dean didn’t respond, his eyes downcast, his face slack. “You don’t have to go.” Dean said softly.

It hit Sam hard. He pulled his hand back and stepped away. “Yes, I do Dean. This has to end.” Sam wasn’t sure if he meant his lies and deception or this relationship he’d dragged Dean into…or if that wasn’t just more of the manipulation Sam had been practicing since he was 8. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

 

Without thinking about it or understanding completely why, Sam’s path took him nowhere near Shelby’s house. Instead it brought him to the stairs of the Catholic church. “This is stupid.” He said out loud.

“What is stupid, Sam?”

Sam jumped and turned to find Father Andrews approaching from the side of the church. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yes you did.”

The priest chuckled. “Okay, yeah, I did.”

“I thought priests weren’t allowed to lie.”

“We’re all human, Sam. Lying is a human trait.”

“I suppose.”

“Don’t you tell lies, Sam? Every day?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed as he tried to size the man up, tried to see what he’d seen before. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The priest smiled. “Okay. If you say so. Want to come inside? We could talk in my office.”

“What makes you think I came here to talk?”

“It comes with the collar, the ability to know certain things.” He fingered the collar, then hitched his thumb toward the doors. “Why else would you be here?”

Sam really didn’t know, but didn’t want to say that. “Yeah, okay.” He followed the priest into the church and down the hall that Dean and Kaitlyn had gone down earlier. The man’s office was a cluttered mess of books and book shelves and trinkets from around the world.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, Sam.” Father Andrews gestured toward the overstuffed chair and Sam nodded. “Are you going to tell me what’s on your mind? Or should I hazard a guess?”

“Guessing?” Sam’s smile was mild. No way could anyone guess what was going on in his head. “I don’t think…it’s all very complicated.”

“So, let’s start with something simple.”

Sam nodded, his mind casting about for something to say. “Tell me, Father, do you believe in demons?” he finally asked, holding his breath and not looking at the priest until he’d finished the question.

“As in…do I believe in demon possession?”

Sam nodded.

“You’re right…it is very complicated.” The priest sighed and sat back in his chair. “The short answer is yes, Sam. I’ve been involved in exorcisms in the past.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “What? You ask the question, then don’t want the answer?”

“No…” He sighed. “Okay, so demons. My brother…sees them.”

Father Andrews folded his hands, and waited for Sam to continue. Sam sighed again. “I can’t believe I’m talking about this. With a priest.” He looked up quickly. “No offense.”

“None taken.” He watched Sam for a minute before speaking again. “This is something you’ve been carrying around for a while.”

Sam nodded, feeling tears welling up. “I…I’m a terrible person…an awful brother…and he doesn’t know…he…he’d do anything for me.” Sam drew in a shaky breath. “My therapist doesn’t…I mean I can’t say anything about demons to him, you know? I’d be in Dean’s place before I knew it.”

“Dean being your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“So, tell me Sam…why are you a terrible person?”

Sam looked away. “I see them too. Not as often, and mostly when I’m…with him.”

“You’ve never told him.”

Sam shook his head. Damn it he hated crying in front of a virtual stranger. “I…how could I? I pushed him into therapy…I pushed him into denying…he did it for me. And now, he’s so messed up on the meds, I hardly know him anymore.”

“They’re medicating him to keep him from seeing things?”

“That and the nightmares, and visions.” Sam shook his head. He needed to shut up. He needed to get up and leave that place, go home and finish packing. Somehow though, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Your brother must be very gifted.”

Sam groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. “That’s my fault too.”

“How so?”

“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

Father Andrews leaned forward across the cluttered desk. “I don’t yet, and I doubt we’re going to move into territory that would change my mind. Why don’t you just tell me?”

“It was supposed to be me.” Sam said, his voice soft. “My mother died when I was six months old. A demon killed her. It chose me for something.” His eyes lifted to the priest’s. “I don’t know if it gave them to me…or if it chose me because of them. The nightmares started when I was still small. I never understood them then.”

“You do now?”

Sam shrugged. “I know what Dean’s were like….and sometimes I get…its like a little bleed over or something…but I can’t really compare them to when I was small.”

“So, if these gifts were meant to be yours, how did they end up in Dean?”

“I was scared. I was eight and I thought I was dying.” Sam shifted uncomfortably. “It…I’m assuming it was a demon…told me that I was sick because of the gifts, but that I could give them away.”

“And you believed him?”

Sam shrugged. “I stopped having the nightmares. I…was normal.”

“And Dean?”

“It started when he was fourteen, the nightmares…the visions when he was fifteen.”

“And he’s been on meds since?”

Sam swallowed. “Yes. He had…he saw a demon kill his girlfriend…he had a breakdown….it’s more complicated than that though.”

“It usually is.” Father Andrews rubbed at his temples. “I can see why you feel guilty Sam, but you should know that Dean’s gifts aren’t your fault. I can’t speak to the rest, but this much I know, you can’t give that away. It’s part of who you are. You can repress it, deny it, medicate it away…but you can’t give it away. It’s like your eye color, can you give that green away to someone else? You can call it something else or cover it with contacts, but you can’t just not have it.”

Sam sat back as if he’d been burned. “What?”

“Its all still there, inside you. If Dean has them too, that’s Dean’s burden, Dean’s gift. It has nothing to do with you.”

Something about that stirred inside Sam. “If that’s true, if it can be repressed, then why…why does it keep coming? I mean…all these years, he’s been on meds, doing therapy, denying everything…and the visions, the nightmares…they bleed through. He has black outs, he sees things, writes them down in his journal…and he doesn’t remember…and every year or so they change the meds, heavier, more…something to try to keep up.”

The priest drew in a deep breath. “That tells me he isn’t really repressing them, Sam. He’s hiding them.”

Sam groaned, thick tears falling. Hiding them. Hiding them to protect him, to give him what he wanted. “Fuck.” Sam pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and doubled up on himself. His stomach churned. His head was throbbing. “I push him, manipulate him. What kind of brother am I?” Sam rocked a little in the chair. “I should have let him go…when Dad came…I should have told him to go.”

Father Andrews came around the desk and Sam could feel his hand on his back, warm, gentle, soothing. “That’s a lot of guilt you’re carrying, Son.”

Sam nodded miserably. It wasn’t event he half of it, but he knew the rest would change the priest’s soothing tone. He couldn’t leave now…not without telling Dean. It was time. Dean needed to know. The hand slowly circling his back paused. “Tell me something Sam…if you had let him go…do you think he would have?”

Something in the way his voice slanted made Sam think the priest already knew the answer. He looked up through wet eyes and blinked. “No. He promised me he would never leave me. Dean keeps his promises.”

The priest squatted beside his chair so that he was mostly eye to eye with Sam. “Seems to me then, that you’re blaming yourself an awful lot for things that you didn’t have any control over.”

Sam shook his head. “No. It’s…complicated.” Complicated didn’t begin to touch it. What could he say? Oh, and just to really fuck up this dynamic, I fuck him too….he just didn’t think the priest would be so understanding after that.

“I know.” Father Andrew touched his arm and Sam felt that flush of energy again, as he had the first time the had touched. “But trust me Sam when I tell you that it isn’t all your fault. You may have manipulated your brother, used his love for you to get what you wanted…but you were a child…and you were manipulated first.”

Maybe…maybe, but Sam wasn’t ready to be forgiven…certainly not by someone who wasn’t involved. He took a deep breath and stood. “I…should go. I’m leaving for Stanford tomorrow.”

Father Andrews stuck out his hand. “Feel free to keep in touch. I’ll keep an eye on your brother, if you like. I expect we’ll be seeing more of him, now that Father Byers has joined our staff.”

“But…this conversation…stays between us, right?”

He smiled gently. “Yes Sam. You have to tell him in your own way. I can’t do that for you. I’m here to listen and maybe guide.” Sam’s hand finally closed over his. “Good luck Sam, no matter what you decide to do.”

 

“Here. We got you something.” Dean said, shoving a box into his hands while they waited for the plane to board.

“What?”

“You know, a going away present.” Kaitlyn said, her smile pretty.

Sam opened the box. “A cell phone?”

“Yeah, so you can keep in touch with your big brother.” Dean said. There was an ache in his eyes that Sam didn’t want to see, so he looked away. “First year’s on me. After that, you’re on your own, college boy.”

Sam smiled and hugged them both at once. “Thanks!”

“I got one too…and my numbers on there. You can call me…anytime.”

A female voice announced the boarding of his plane and Sam reached down for his carry on. “You take care of my brother, Kaitlyn. He’s all I’ve got in this world.” Sam said as she hugged him.

“I will. You know we’ll have the spare room set up for you by Christmas, so if you can manage it…”

“I’ll try. Dean.” He turned to Dean and the just looked at one another for a long moment before Sam pulled him tight against him. “Love you, Big Brother. Can’t breathe without you.” Sam couldn’t breathe anyway, between the grip of Dean’s arms around him and the fear clenching in his gut. He hadn’t slept all night, writing the whole sordid truth out on paper and he’d left it in an envelope on the back seat of the Impala. Dean had to know. Sam just couldn’t say it to him.

“I gotta go.” Dean finally released him and nodded.

“Take care of yourself Sam.”

“You too.”

Sam waved once from the gate, and sighed in relief when the doors closed behind him. His heart hurt, but for the first time in his life he was free.


End file.
